


Until Full Moon

by Idris388



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Full Moon, Gen, Memories, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 06:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idris388/pseuds/Idris388
Summary: 1993-1994. Remus Lupin returns to the halls of his youth. There, he finds a job he loves, a life he remembers, old enemies, and old friends too.





	Until Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The Marauders are some of my great loves in the Potter-verse, as heart-breaking as their stories are. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Disclaimer: They are immortals of ink and paper; but they are not mine.

**Until Full Moon**

_"Spooky,"_  James would have said.

" _Positively eerie,_ " Sirius would have agreed with a bob of his head.

" _Poignant,"_  Peter would have piped up, and they would have glared at him for a moment before dissolving into laughter.

They had been witty and brave and everything else there had been that was good in the world, and yet at the end of the line, here he was, alone, looking into an empty carriage. "Sad," he said aloud, and flinched at the sound of his own voice.

_Three and a half weeks until full moon._

* * *

_You look very much like your father_ , was at the tip of his tongue. But the boy looked up, frightened and with a hint of shame flecking the green of Lily's eyes, and Remus swallowed his words. James had never looked like this, even at the end. Instead, he asked, "Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry swallowed but did not ask how Remus knew his name; the older man thought perhaps he was quite used to the phenomenon by now. The Dementor had left him more shaken than he cared to admit and feeling Harry slump down onto the train seat made his heart flutter with a fear that he had not experienced in years.

Sirius, who Remus kept buried in the back of his mind, had begun to resurface in the past weeks; the encounter with the Azkaban guard had shaken loose the memories like leaves in the wind.  _Say something to him_ , Sirius encouraged in his head.  _Something comforting; something…Moony-ish_.

_Shut up_ , Remus snapped back, and Sirius fell silent.

Horrifyingly, Remus could imagine the hurt expression on Sirius' face when he shouted at him to keep his mouth shut. The guilt flooded through him before he could stop it. Remus hardly knew what he felt guilty for anymore.

* * *

"-and this is the staffroom," Professor McGonagall was saying, gesturing towards a particular door. "There isn't a password – the statues will recognise you as you come by."

"Recognising me might be the very reason they  _don't_  let me in," Remus laughed and McGonagall cracked a hint of a smile.

The staffroom was one that only James had been in during the course of their years at Hogwarts, and he had failed to adequately describe it. It was a plain room, but quite spacious and filled with the oddest assortment of chairs Remus had ever seen. "Who decorated in here?" he asked before he could stop himself and he heard a smattering of laughter.

Looking over, he saw Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick and Professor Burbage regarding him with varying degrees of affection and humour. "Welcome, Remus," Sprout said.

"Hello, Professor Sprout," he responded automatically and was rewarded with another peal of laughter, much fuller this time.

"Hello, Professor Lupin," she teased him and he grinned.

"That's going to take some getting used to."

Truthfully, he had been called that since the age of thirteen by three precocious boys who were nothing but memories now.

* * *

McGonagall looked around the corner of the staffroom door in a cautious manner that seemed unlike her. "Are you alright, Minerva?" Remus asked, looking up from his paper.

She entered the room, straightening her green robes as she did. "Oh, yes, thank you, Remus."

Sprout nodded knowingly at her. "She's not here, Minerva."

"Clearly, Pomona." There was a silence as McGonagall tapped the kettle with her wand. It rattled as the water within it boiled immediately; some slopped through the opening at its mouth and onto the counter. Remus stared at the tiny loss of control to which Minerva McGonagall was not often prone. "She's done it  _again_ ," McGonagall said after a moment's pause. "And she's picked that poor boy."

"Potter?" Poppy Pomfrey enquired. "Oh, dear."

Remus' ears pricked up at the familiar name but struggled to keep the curiosity off his face. Unfortunately, the conversation continued, stoking the fire of his intrigue. "It's the last thing he needs," McGonagall was seething. "And she should know that."

"What about Harry?" Remus wanted to know, abandoning his show of apathy.

Madame Pomfrey took pity on him. "Every year, Sybill Trelawney-"

"The Divination teacher?" Remus asked mildly.

"Yes," McGonagall took over. "Each year, she predicts that someone in her class – her new, third year class – will die."

Remus almost laughed at the absurdity of this. "And this year, Harry took the cake?"

Both Pomfrey and Sprout inclined their heads at this turn of phrase, but McGonagall seemed to understand perfectly. "It's the last thing he needs at the moment – Sirius Black on the loose and all-"

Remus flicked his eyes back to his paper. He was perfectly aware that the other teachers were wary of the topic. Twice he had come across a gathering in the staffroom that had been promptly halted at his appearance. Some of them cast him shifty glances across the table in the Great Hall, too cowed by Dumbledore's vouch in him to let their stares linger for long. Only Snape made no secret of his suspicions.

"What exactly did Sybill say?"

"They were reading tea leaves," McGonagall said, the disapproval coming off her in waves. "She said she saw the Grim in his cup." Despite their previous humour, he saw Pomfrey shiver slightly and Sprout press her lips together nervously.

Remus, with a muggle mother and a pragmatic father, was less familiar with the wizarding signs of death. "What's the Grim?"

"A death omen," Pomfrey said in a slightly hushed voice. "It takes the shape of a large black dog."

There was a noise somewhere between a crash and a tinkle. " _Remus_?" Professor Sprout asked, startled; he realised that he had dropped his cup.

Immediately, a flush rose in his cheeks. "Sorry," he muttered, folding his newspaper onto the table and bending down to gather up the pieces. Crouching amid the puddle of tea and trying not to cut his hands, he let the shock and stark fear pool in his chest, fuelling the increased pace of his heart.

"Remus?" a voice said and the face of Madame Pomfrey appeared under the table, wearing an expression that suggested he had lost his mind. "What on earth are you doing?"

Remus closed his eyes in despair. "Cleaning up?"

Poppy's face changed – he recognised this expression. It was one he had used on James and Sirius on many an occasion.

_"He's giving us that look again, Padfoot."_

_"I know, Prongs. The one that says –"_

_"Have you both lost your minds?!"_

_"Yes, that."_

"Let me do that, Remus," Poppy said kindly, gesturing for him to sit back in his chair. He did so, dumbfounded at the flashback and at the revelation that had just occurred. With one wave of her wand, the cup was repaired; with another, the spilled tea had vanished.

"Is everything alright, Remus?" McGonagall asked, looking carefully at him.

"I'm just a little tired," Remus lied through his teeth and instantly, all expressions turned to sympathy.

It had its uses, his condition.

_Two weeks until full moon._

* * *

The Gryffindor's Boggarts were laughable, although Remus scolded himself for laughing at a group of innocent thirteen-year-olds. The Weasley boy's spider lost its legs and Remus found himself smiling as its body rolled and rolled and rolled.

"Oh, Christ," Remus muttered to himself as it stopped at the feet of the familiar dark-haired boy. A thousand possibilities flashed through his mind – the spider body transforming into Sirius, chains on his wrists and ankles, hair long, robes filthy and baring his teeth at the class; Lily and James' bodies lifeless and pale on the floor right there in his classroom; Lord Voldemort rising from smoke. The panic nearly overwhelmed him.

And then – a voice in the back of his head.  _Come on, Professor Lupin_ , Sirius' treacherously comforting voice said.

_Yeah, steady on, Moony_ , James' voice joined in.  _It's Harry_.

_Remus_ , Peter chimed.  _You can do it._

"Here," Remus said quickly, and the moon appeared suddenly. Remus took a calming breath. "Riddikulus."

If only it were a mere Boggart.

_One week until full moon._

* * *

The wolf grew stronger as he grew weaker. Muscles and bones ripped and stretched within him. He squeezed his eyes shut as claws emerged, then paws, then a longer nose.

He could smell.

He could hear.

He could sense.

The wolf was awake.

_Full moon_.

* * *

The search was over when he returned. Dumbledore asked to see him and he walked up the steps with heavy feet knowing, as he always had before, that the was in trouble. "Sirius Black has been in the castle tonight."

Remus' fists clenched convulsively. Dumbledore watched him with equal caution and pity. "How?"

"I have several theories but none have been confirmed."

"I didn't do anything," Remus said because he felt it needed to be voiced.

"I know that, Remus," Dumbledore said gently. "I am fully aware."

"So why am I here?" Remus asked defensively.

"I simply wished you to hear it from me."

"Is Harry alright?" Remus demanded.

"It was his friend, Ronald, who Sirius threatened tonight. He had disappeared before he could find Harry's bed."

"He was in Gryffindor tower?" Remus was horrified. Sirius knew those dormitories better than he had known his own childhood home. Dumbledore's silence confirmed his question, but the older man's words caught up with him. "He didn't kill Ron?"

"He did not," Dumbledore confirmed. "He chose to escape without a fuss rather than to kill more people than were necessary."

The words followed Remus all the way back to his bed.

_Four weeks until full moon_.

* * *

The staffroom was abuzz with gossip. Remus let his ear run over each conversation – Charity Burbage and Rolanda Hooch were discussing Hagrid's hippogriff; Pomona and Aurora Sinistra chattered about the Quidditch match, about the Dementors, about Dumbledore; Septima Vector, Flitwick and McGonagall talked seriously in the corner. Snape had been sitting with them when Remus had come in, but he was ominously silent.

"Remus," he heard, and turned, mug in hand. Vector was waving at him. Snape's lips curled in distaste, but this did not deter Remus as he made his way towards them. "Come and sit with us." Vector was the only one out of the four with whom he did not have a personal history, which was reflected in the way he was greeted. "How are you?" she asked politely.

"Getting along alright, youngster?" Flitwick squeaked with a grin and McGonagall gave an almost inaudible snort. Snape sneered. Vector lifted an eyebrow, surprised at the familiar exchange.

"Filius and Minerva were my teachers when I was here," Remus said by way of explanation.

"That's right," Vector said. "I overheard my fourth year Ravenclaws talking the other day about how you and Severus were in the same year." Snape's jaw clenched and he turned a page of his paper. Remus observed him with some amusement. He had the distinct impression that had it not been for Flitwick and McGonagall, the other man would have left the table the instant Remus had sat down.

"That's correct," Remus said with a small smile. "Although I don't quite have Severus' ease with our prior teachers yet." He eyed Flitwick with no animosity. "Perhaps because they continue to call me  _youngster_."

"Can you really complain, Remus?" Sprout called from the next table. She and Sinistra had abandoned their previous conversation and had evidently been listening in. "After all the trouble you gave us as a student."

Vector made a noise of doubt, evidently sceptical of Remus' ability to break or even bend a single rule. In the face of his tea-drinking and his mild manners and his cardigan-wearing habits, he supposed this was fair. Flitwick piped up. "Constantly in detention."

"Oh, I wasn't," Remus said with a smile.

"Badly behaved," Sprout said conspiratorially. "Real trouble-makers, all four of them-" She broke off, horror dawning in her face at what she had said.

It was not the first time another teacher had said something of the kind to Remus, and he could not blame his former teachers for the memories they had of himself, James, Sirius and Peter. Could not blame them for forgetting what he himself could not. Vector shifted. "I don't understand. The four of you?"

Vector knew he was a werewolf; it was startling for him to remember that some people did not know of his personal history with Sirius. Severus' low monotone entered the conversation, laced with disgust and, almost indeterminable but certainly there, delight at Remus' pending humiliation. "We were in the same year as Black," he said. "Myself and Lupin. In fact, Lupin and Black were very…close. Along with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew."

"James Potter and Peter Pettigrew?" Vector asked in a half-whisper. Too much to hope for, apparently, that she had not heard the story.

"And now Black is a criminal on the run trying to break into this castle." Snape's gaze flickered up to Remus, and then back to his paper. "What a coincidence."

Vector's eyes were wide, but to her credit, they held no suspicion when she turned them on Remus. "What was Black like when you knew him?"

Remus swallowed hard. Even after twelve years, hearing Sirius referred to as a criminal made some part of him convulse. He heard Snape make a cutting remark. McGonagall was shooting him a concerned look. "Septima," she said. "Perhaps-"

"Oh, I do apologise," Vector said immediately.

"No, that's alright," Remus said. His voice sounded louder than usual. "It's alright," he repeated, more quietly and in McGonagall's direction. He took a deep breath.

_Tell them I'm a handsome bastard,_  Sirius whispered.

_Witty,_  James suggested.

_Starry_ , Peter's voice joined unhelpfully. Sirius and James gave twin groans inside Remus' head. He wondered why he was never able to join in with these familiar dialogues.

_Remus, do not say starry,_ Sirius' voice warned.

Remus cleared his throat. "He was one of the cleverest people I knew – and one of the stupidest. He was reckless in a dangerous way, and silly, and crude, and ridiculous. But I thought he was brilliant," Remus admitting.

"How wrong you were." Snape gave him no quarter.

"How wrong I was," Remus repeated without any resentment.

"There was no hint of…it?" Vector asked in a hushed voice.

"There were plenty of hints," Remus said easily. There was a part of him that was reluctant to speak about Sirius, but another that kept twelve years of rage and hurt and confusion back, which was starting to collapse; to unravel like loose string. "Sirius was a rebel. He hated his family. He couldn't sit still; he had such an uncontrollable temper. He got so angry sometimes, it was like watching a madman. Even before Azkaban, he was a little unhinged at times. And he could be thoughtless and cruel, even to his own friends." The whole staffroom had gone quiet; it was not only Professor Vector listening avidly. The whole staff of Hogwarts, listening to the last personal account left of the man they were guarding the castle against. Remus ignored them and focussed on his own words. "But he could be kind too, and loyal – or so I thought." At last, his voice cracked a little and he gritted his teeth against it. "I didn't see it until it was too late."

Minerva's voice broke in, brisk and business-like. "None of us did. Black was always a broken boy. His family…we made exception for it. Remus…Potter… Pettigrew… We thought they might help him. Perhaps some people are not meant to be healed."

The conversation was over just like that and Remus pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. Still, he could not stop the memories.

_"Moony."_

_"Yes?"_

_"Do you think maybe some people are just…broken?"_

_"Why do you ask?"_

_"No reason."_

_"You're not broken, Sirius."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"I just do."_

_Three weeks until full moon._

* * *

The third years were taking their exams. Remus had dragged the obstacle course into place with a grin. After their previous disasters for teachers, the kids deserved a bit of fun. Somebody would get fooled by the Hinkypunk and end up swimming neck-deep in the marsh-like water. It made Remus' smile widen.

He had captured a Boggart for the task and approached the wardrobe where it rattled. "Calm down now," he said. "They'll be along soon." The Boggart continued to shake the trunk back and forth until Remus, too distracted by the noise to continue with his setup, crossed over to it. "Alright, then," he said. "Let's give you something to do."

He stepped inside, wand raised, expecting to see the full moon floating inside. Instead, to his shock, he came face to face with a handsome young man with a graceful slouch, Gryffindor tie loose around his neck; eyes that were as familiar as his own in the mirror; hair that fell slightly too long. It was a moment before Remus found his voice. "S-Sirius?"

"Hi, Remus."

Remus narrowed his eyes wildly and tried to slow his breathing. The posture – slightly leaning to the left, one hand in trouser pocket – was not helpful. Sirius' posture had remained nonchalant all the time Remus had spent with him. The uniform was more telling – the knot of Sirius' tie was about 5 centimetres below the collar, the sleeves rolled unevenly up his forearms. His hair fell just below Sirius' nose level.

"Alright," Remus said, his smooth and casual tone of voice hiding the thumping within his ribcage. "Help me out here. Where are we? Mid-sixth year?"

"Right before full moon," Boggart-Sirius answered, shrugging.

"Ah." The Snape Incident. "I see."

"Are you afraid of me, Remus?" Boggart-Sirius asked, almost with surprise. "Azkaban or no, I wouldn't think you were afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," Remus said, half-lying. "Twelve years in prison don't make you any better – or worse."

"No, but they make the rumours true," Boggart-Sirius said. "Sirius Black, spy, killer of muggles and his best friends and the parents of his godson; betrayer of all. Even now, you don't want it to be true."

"No," Remus murmured the truth into the dark, dusty trunk. "But it is true, isn't it? No point in hoping."

"All those people I was supposed to have killed," Boggart-Sirius mused. "All those years in the most awful prison with the most dangerous of people. And this moment, right here in Sixth year is the one you're most afraid of. Is it because it's where the cruelty started?"

"It's where I missed it for the first time," Remus corrected, while a voice – not James, nor Sirius, not Peter, but another calmer voice that sounded like his father – whispered  _Riddikulus_  in his ear over and over.

Boggart-Sirius laughed a carefree laugh, so like the friend Remus had always thought he had. "But not for the last."

"I hate you," Remus said fiercely, not sure if he was referring to the Boggart or Sirius himself.

Boggart-Sirius gazed at him with something akin to pity. "No, you don't."

Remus banished it with one wave of his wand and lurched out of the cupboard, breathing hard and wondering what mark he would have given himself in the third years' exam.

_Two weeks until full moon_.

* * *

_Sirius got past the Dementors as an Animagus._

The words trailed after Remus like a cloud, day and night. He told the Sixth years that there were five Unforgivable curses; he let the Seventh years go a period early from class by mistake. Several had approached him to ask whether he was feeling well.

In the staffroom, concerned glances came from every corner. "Remus," a female voice said to him, seizing his wrist from the right.

"Hmm?" he looked around to see at least three pairs of eyes on him. "I missed that; what was it?"

"You're about to put Pomona's tonic in your tea," Sinistra said gently to him and he looked down in surprise.

"So I am." He placed it back on the table. "My apologies, Pomona."

There was a silence. And then – "Remus," Pomfrey said gently. "Are you feeling quite alright?"

"Oh yes, Poppy," he said. "There's still a week to go."

"Yes," she said. "But I meant – well –"

"Go on," he encouraged. "You needn't be worried about offending me."

"Is it to do with Black?" Sprout asked bluntly. "Are you worried about him breaching the castle?"

If only that were all he was worried about. If Sirius really did get into the grounds as a dog, then it was his fault that the castle was unsafe; that Harry was unsafe. Remus drank his tea without milk or sugar.

"Really, I'm alright, Pomona."

And of course, it would have been the way Sirius escaped from Azkaban. Because Remus had not told Dumbledore about what they had done in Fifth year, the entire Wizarding world was now at risk from a madman.

"Is that why you told the second years that vampires were frightened of sheep, and one could ward them off with a mixture of spinach and lemon?" Sinistra asked.

Remus looked up, startled. "Did I say that?"

"I suspect not," Sinistra told him. "But they probably asked you and you nodded to them."

"I'd better go look over those essays," Remus replied with a grimace. "I didn't realise."

_One week until full moon._

* * *

_Peter Pettigrew_.

Remus fell back in shock, then scrabbled to unfold the Map further. The letters, the footsteps were unmistakable. Peter was with Harry, Ron and Hermione, making their way back up from Hagrid's hut. Remus rubbed his eyes. Tonight was not a convenient time for Peter to come back to life – his friend had always had the most rubbish timing.

And suddenly, a new dot joined them –  _Sirius Black_. " _Jesus Christ_ ," Remus murmured to himself, starting to move. He dragged his cloak from the back of the chair and snatched his wand from the table, the ache in his bones disappearing momentarily in his haste.

All thoughts disappeared from his head. A teacup smashed in his rush to the door and as he left, he dislodged the lunar calendar that was hanging next to his desk.

_Full moon_.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
